


Dark Places

by Sectumsempra



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:12:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3909100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sectumsempra/pseuds/Sectumsempra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They sit down, and Hannibal asks "What is it you need tonight, Will?"<br/>"Distraction," he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Places

This isn't him. He isn't the kind of person who drinks too much - or at all, really - and makes a fool of himself, he's not... he's not the kind of person who drowns his sorrows.

Not that it's sorrows he's drowning, exactly.

The man that exits Hannibal's office is old, no doubt well into his retirement, well-dressed in tweed and with judgeful eyes that skim over Will where he's sitting in the waiting area, sipping from a bottle of Jack Daniel's.

Hannibal almost closes the door before noticing him, but does just as Will gets to his feet.

"Will? I didn't expect you at this hour."  
"Are you busy?" Hannibal looks him over, a small crease between his brows, something hesitant in his movements.  
"No, that was... my last appointment for the day. Will, did you drive here in this state?" Hannibal steps aside and gestures him into the office.  
"I drove here in _a_ state," Will admits. "But I've been sitting out there for an hour with mister Daniels here..."

Hannibal removes his suit, hangs it neatly on the back of his deskchair, unbuttons his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, for a moment leaving Will standing awkwardly in the center of the room.

"I would feel rude making you drink alone," Hannibal then says, helping himself to a glass of his own whiskey. He returns, offering Will an empty glass. Seems horribly pointless pretending to be civilized, but Will takes it, pours himself more than he needs. The light from a nearby lamp reflects in the liqour, making it look like amber.

They sit down, and Hannibal asks "What is it you need tonight, Will?"  
"Distraction," he says.  
"Is the whiskey not giving the desired effect?" Will glances at the bottle he's put aside, opened just two hours ago and now only half full (or half empty, depending on how you look at it) doesn't meet Hannibal's eyes as he replies.  
"It offers a fog, but I still... see the same images through that fog, stay in the same... places."  
"And what are those, Will? What is it that you see?" He takes a large sip, it burns his throat, spreads heat throughout his chest.  
"Crime scenes. I see... the things that happened before they were crime scenes. I see... murder." He puts the glass aside, for a moment hiding his face in his hands, sighing. "I see people die in such colourful ways." Hannibal tilts his head a little to the side, twirls his glass in slow circles, making the liquid spin and gleam like tree sap in firelight. "I... try not to take my work home with me but you know, it's uh... difficult when your work is inside your head."  
"And what is it you wish for me to do for you?"  
Will chuckles a little, because it is all so dumb, isn't it, him driving all the way here to get drunk in the waiting room and then ask for distraction as if tonight is different, as if he isn't always seeing death for his inner eye.  
"I'm... not sure. Lead me out of my dark places?" He says the second part with a little smile, an amused tone, says it like a joke though it isn't. Hannibal doesn't smile.  
"Then the only question that remains is whether you wish for me to help you in the role of your therapist... or as a friend?"  
"I suppose that depends," Will says, "on what you can do for me as either?"  
Hannibal crosses his legs, stares into his drink as though it's a crystal ball, looks at Will only a long moment later.  
"As your therapist, there is of course pills I could prescribe. To help you sleep, to take the edge off of your... anxiety."  
"I don't suffer from anxiety," Will says. "I strongly doubt a pill will... offer oblivion in this case."  
"There are hypnotic methods as well," Hannibal says then, "ones I could use to... guide you through it. Lead you out of the dark."  
"Hypnosis..." Will echoes. "And as a... friend. What do you have to offer?" Hannibal gets an interesting gleam in his eyes, one Will would perhaps be wary off was he sober.  
"As your friend I am not bound by any code of ethics," he says, and Will thinks _are you ever, Doctor Lecter?_ "As your friend, I could do anything you asked of me." Will takes another deep sip, thinks again of how he isn't the kind of person who does things under the influence that he regrets in the morning, knows he's lying to himself, says;  
"Then I guess tonight... I need a friend."


End file.
